


Drive

by kittykittymewmeww



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Knife Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Winter Soldier/Reader - Freeform, anal fingering (female receiving)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykittymewmeww/pseuds/kittykittymewmeww
Summary: You should always check the backseat of your car before you get in, lest a Winter Soldier appear without your knowledge.





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> This shit got kinda fucked up. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://kittykitty-mewmeww.tumblr.com/)

Despite warnings of danger from the media, your friends, and your Mother, nighttime remained your favorite time of day, and you figured it must have a thing for you, too. Not only was it your favorite time, it was easily your most active, at least as far as the public was concerned. The stars winked at you, the moon glowed above you, and the current of lazy traffic sang to you as you walked down the sidewalk.

Not once had you been mugged, and never were you attacked. Hell, you barely got any catcalls that concerned you. Maybe after the sun set on the small city the world could sense that at one point Captain America himself had literally touched you, and maybe that touch left a mystical shield to protect you. You’d even stuck a shield decal on the bumper of your car so he was always covering your ass.

Said car came into view, the only one in the dimly lit parking lot, and you rifled through your purse in search of your keys. Not only did you fail to find them, but you were starting to suspect that you might’ve left your phone at home, too. How many times had you vowed to declutter? When you got home, you were definitely going to make good on your promise to yourself, you decided as you reached your car.

Without even thinking, you opened the door and settled in, tossing your bag onto the passenger seat. Only when, out of pure habit, your empty hand reached for the ignition did you realize that your car had been unlocked. Oops.

A whisper of shifting clothes and a mechanic whir came from behind you but before you could react, a cold, unforgiving hand wrapped around your throat and yanked you back against the headrest.

“Don’t scream.” The voice was muffled but rough, like the order was the first time he’d seen fit to speak in months. The threat was pointless, though. Even as panic gripped your body, pumping adrenaline through your body, preparing you for that fight or flight, your airways felt like they’d had cement poured down them. “Breathe, for fuck’s sake. Can’t have you passing out on me.”

Instead of loosening his grip, he gave you a little squeeze and you wanted to tell him to take his hand off your god damn throat if he wanted you to fucking breathe, but your body responded anyway and you inhaled, long and shaky. You were relieved to feel his hand move with you, still ever present, still causing bruises if you had to guess, but clearly this was not his first time with a hand around a throat.

“Good girl.” His thumb slid along the column of your throat, just once, but the strangely reassuring gesture following the pet name was enough to get all your signals crossed. Your head began to swim.

Anxious to give yourself some context, a clue, anything to help you get a handle on yourself, your eyes darted to the rear-view mirror. You had training for this. You’d need to be able to describe the man. But the only thing you could make out from under the shadows was a pair of cold, blue eyes. The rest of his face was completely shrouded but those eyes… Those eyes were going to haunt you until the day you died.

Which, you realized when you saw the metal hand around your throat, might be today.

“Start the car.”

You hesitated for a fraction too long and the grip on your throat tightened. A low growl sounded from close behind you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Start. The car.”

You nodded, as much as you could. “My bag. Keys are in my bag.”

When the unrelenting hand didn’t choke you further, you took it as permission and reached over to blindly rummage through it with a shaky hand. You swore to god that if you made it out alive, you were going to clean out your bag. Hell, you’d go full on minimalistic if it meant you’d find your god damned keys.

Your fingers wrapped around something cool and thin. Your phone. It was right there. Maybe…just maybe you could-

A sting shot up your right leg and you looked down to see a knife creep up your thigh. “Mm-mm-mm, I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

That order you didn’t hesitate to follow, but it felt less like a decision on your part and more of a reflex. And when he didn’t take the knife away, instead dragging it higher and higher, the racing of your heart was not the result of fear. Your clit pulsed, blood rushing to your sex at the onslaught of sensations, readying itself. You gasped as the knife pressed against the outer edge of your pubic Mons, hard enough to pierce through your jeans and draw blood, hurting in the most delicious way.

Idiot that you were, disappointment almost made you go slack against the hold on your throat when he moved the knife away from your apex, but you perked up when the tip, now just a bit red, slid up your torso and stopped between your breasts.

“Relax. Slow breaths.”

It took a moment to register his words, but the knife digging into your flesh at each fast, sporadic breath, made you realize you were moments from hyperventilating. Just as his hand did, the knife moved with your breaths – controlling you, but to your own benefit.

Almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he used the edge of the blade to pull down the front of your t-shirt, groaning at the sight of your chest rising and falling with measured but short breaths. You felt your nipples harden, the nerves desperate for relief, of which he offered none.

Instead, a cold thumb began petting your throat while the rest of the fingers still held firm, and he so very slowly dragged the tip of the knife along the cups of your bra. Goosebumps appeared over your skin and you moaned.

He removed the knife in an instant, burying it in the side of your backrest with a thud, making you wince and jump away. “Hands on the steering wheel.”

You obeyed quickly and maybe a bit more enthusiastically than needed, gripping the steering so tight that your nails actually dug into your palms. He grabbed your bag and dropped it into your lap and, with his one free hand, began feeling through it, tossing out anything he didn’t need. Which was everything.

He chuckled and held your phone in front of your face before snapping it in half and discarding it. Quickly, he was to the bottom of your bag and feeling his hand moving so close to your pussy was driving you a little crazy. Your hips shifted off the seat. He went still, but you could feel him watching you. Slowly, you brought your eyes back to the rear-view mirror.

His stare was no less intense, but there was a heat that had filled it, and the darkness he was engulfed in now pooled in his eyes. “Is there something you’d like from me, little girl?”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

He shoved your bag back onto the opposite seat and pulled the knife from the backrest, slapping the side of it on your thigh, hard enough to make you yelp. “Spread.”

Eyes wide, you parted your thighs, now holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. He grazed the tip of the blade down and past your zipper, right over your cunt, making you squirm against your wet panties. He did it again and again, increasing the pressure with each pass until you were writhing in your seat, whimpering and straining against his steadfast hold on your throat.

Without warning, he sliced your shirt open, flipped the knife to bury it into the seat between your legs and grabbed at your tits. You cried out and he yanked the cups down – you were pretty sure you heard a seam rip – and squeezed them hard, one at a time, before pinching your nipples and slapping the underside of your breasts.

Apparently satisfied with the flushed state of your chest, he yanked open your jeans and shoved his hand under them and your panties.

“Oh, babygirl,” he groaned as his fingers slipped through your drenched folds. “I think you _do_ want something from me.”

“Yes,” you admitted on a breath, rolling your hips against his hand. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

Your cheeks felt warm with embarrassment but that wasn’t going to stop you from getting what you desired. What you needed. “Fuck me, please. I need you inside me, I need to feel-” A thick finger pushing into your cunt cut your words off with a needy whine. You tried to close your legs against the sensation but the knife, still propped up between your thighs forced them to stay open.

“Is this all for me?” he asked in a deep voice, moving his finger around in the wetness of your cunt. All you could do was moan, but he still sounded pleased. “My little slut, all wet for my cock.” The mention of his dick almost drove you over the edge. Knowing it would be hard, leaking precum… You clenched your muscles around his finger and he chuckled. “Maybe next time, doll. If you’re a real good girl for me tonight.”

“Uh huh. I’ll be good, I swear.” You mewled when he removed his finger, and shouted when he replaced it with two. The stretch burned but the sounds…god, the wet sounds of his fingers fucking your pussy was going to wreck you. “More…please…”

He clenched around your throat. “Didn’t I just say-”

“I know, I know, I just…” You groaned, fucking yourself on his hand, breath hiccupping when his palm ground against your clit.

He growled and removed his hand. He cut off your protest and ordered, “Lean forward. On your knees.”

Trying to catch your breath you pulled yourself up, out of the grasp he had around your cunt and your throat. He grabbed your hips and positioned you somewhat sideways. You couldn’t see what he was doing behind you, so when he cut and tore open your jeans with a loud rip, revealing your panties, you swallowed a gulp and froze. And then he did the same with your underwear, leaving your ass and pussy exposed. Vulnerable.

“Down.”

“What?” You began to glance backward but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look forward.

“You wanted your cunt filled, didn’t ya? _Down_.” He gave your hips a shove, pushing you down and you weren’t sure why until you felt the handle of the knife against your entrance.

“ _Oh_ …” You sank onto it with a drawn out moan, the grooves and ridges pressing against your gspot until it was buried to the hilt, lips dragging against it as you pulled your hips back up. When you took it back into your pussy, breathing ragged, you could feel the metal hand holding it steadfast.

Your breasts swayed, spilling out of your bra – and one of the straps dangling to the side – as you fucked back onto the knife’s handle, taking it easily thanks to the juices flooding your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. That’s my good, little shlyukha,” he murmured, using his flesh hand to drag your wetness from your cunt to your puckered hole. You choked on a cry when he slipped a finger inside your asshole and rubbed it against the smooth walls, opening you up further.

“ _Fuck_!”

Tears stung your eyes, the pleasure of having both of your holes encroached quickly becoming too much. Your thighs were slick with your cum, a light sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sounds coming from your mouth were unrecognizable. You braced yourself with a hand on the door panel when you felt the tremors begin, rolling through your body in strengthening waves. Your legs trembled and you came, crying and begging and clenching around the knife and his finger.

Slowly, your hips came to a stop and you breathed a long sigh. “Fuck.” You glanced down to see the handle still buried to the hilt. “ _Fuck_.”

His finger slipped out of your ass and he pulled the knife out by the blade. “You made a mess.”

You fell back onto the seat, muscles all but useless. “You destroyed every piece of clothing I’m wearing.” You glanced up at the mirror. “What now?”

His eyes motioned to seat next to you. The keys sat on top of your bag. “Drive.”


End file.
